Saying Goodbye
by lanuitestcalme
Summary: It's strange, saying goodbye to someone that you don't really even know anymore.


**Author's Note: I hope you enjoy chapter one of this piece. Please, let me know what you think about it in a review! This is my first Doctor Who work, so I am still feeling out the edges. **

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it is not mine.**

He figured that knowing someone at all was worse than leaving them. If you know someone, then you have memories of times well spent that you shared with them, and therefore, you hurt all the more when they must leave you at long last.

His memories with the Ponds, Amy and Rory, nee Williams, were some of the best memories of his very long life. There had been good times and bad times with all of his many companions, and he missed them all dearly, but there was something special about Amy and Rory that stuck out in his mind. Perhaps it was the adventures they had had together; perhaps it was the lives they had saved. Or perhaps it was something else entirely. It is the people you are with, after all, that matter more than the deeds you do with them.

So when it came time for them to part, his hearts each felt like they were breaking into two, uneven parts. The jagged edges cut against his skin and across his mind, and with each breath, he felt like he was drowning.

What purpose did he have left, without Amy to show him the meaning of the stars? What ridiculous, amazing, miraculous times would he have, without Rory to ask him the most profound and awkward questions? What was a doctor without patients, and what was a man without friends?

Lost in his own, miserable thoughts, he had little better to do than poke around the main console room of the TARDIS. He fixed gadgets and buttons that did not need fixing. He pretended that they were set off course due to some freak wind-in-space patterns, even though they were moving right on target. Anything to prolong his time with his favorite, ginger-haired woman and her adorable husband.

There were some out there that declared that it was impossible for an alien to love, for they had nothing better to do than wreak havoc and disturb innocent lives. Sure, he had done his fair share of wreaking havoc and disturbing lives, but that did not mean that he was heartless and cruel. He felt that, perhaps due to his two hearts, he felt even more emotions than the short-lived humans did. His dual hearts were wracked with sadness, and it was a sadness that he would have to endure until the end of time (or until he regenerated, whichever came first).

He heard the patter of Amy's feet move up the stairs behind him, and he slowly turned around in his chair.

"Hey," he whispered, leaning carefully over a particularly not-broken lever.

"Hey," she murmured back to him, walking closer to where he sat. Softly, she laid a hand over his own, stopping his nervous fiddling. "Don't be sad."

"How can I not be sad, my dear Pond?" he asked, still refusing to meet her eyes. "You're leaving me. Rory's leaving me. Everyone leaves at some point, sure, but you barely just got here! And I've lived through so much with you – your wedding, Rory's multiple deaths and resurrections, and now a baby."

He regretted his last words immediately as he looked up and saw the ghosts of the past, of the memories of her child, flit across her face.

"She's not gone forever, you know," he tried to reassure her. "You've already met her, even. That's more than some parents in your situation can say."

"Who cares that I met her?" Amy asked, her voice rising. She yanked her hand away from his. "I'll never hold her in my arms; I'll never hear her first words. I'll never see her take her first step and I'll never send her off on her first day of school. All I have now is a woman, older than me, who claims to be my daughter. She's not my daughter, Doctor. My daughter, my sweet baby girl, died that day at Demon's Run."

He looked at her, his eyes searching her face anxiously. Could she possibly mean what she had said? Of course, being Amy, she probably meant every word.

"She's still your daughter," he said slowly. "Just…a little more grown-up than you expected. River Song, Melody Pond, it's all the same. She's still your flesh and blood. She is still your daughter." He was terrible at these kinds of explanations and comfortings, but he supposed that he was really the only one that could help. River would, of course, not be able to help. Rory probably felt the same as his wife.

So, as always, everything rested on the Doctor's shoulders. Not that he minded. It was his duty, his very purpose, to help those in need. But sometimes, in matters like these, he would have rathered that someone else takes his place. He was not good at everything, of course. Not even he, an alien with two hearts, could heal deep injuries like the ones plaguing the Ponds.

Suddenly, he felt a warm body press against his as Amy wrapped her arms around his middle. She buried her head into his chest and sobbed, and he let her, even though she was ruining his best dress shirt.

"I don't want to leave," she cried. "But I can't stay here. It's too sad, all the memories. To think, my daughter walked these rooms and stood here with you like this. It's just too…too close. I need to leave; I need to get away for a few years."

He rested his head upon her own, burying his nose into her ginger hair. "Will you ever want to come away with me again?"

"I don't know. I've lost more than I ever had when I was with you."

And his dual hearts broke.

He breathed in her scent, trying to commit it to memory. There was no telling when, or if, he would ever see her again, and he wanted to remember every last bit of her until the end of time.

"I have to go now, you know," Amy said, drawing slightly away from his embrace. "Rory…"

"I'll miss you," he said, releasing her regretfully from his arms. "You and Rory." A soft smile graced his worry-creased face. "The Ponds."

"I'll miss you too, Raggedy Doctor," she said. She stood away from him, and then she dashed off to go get Rory. They were near to her hometown, now, anyway.

He messed with a decidedly not-broken lever, and his TARDIS, his one constant friend throughout the ages, throughout time, beeped in response.

Soon they touched down in the soft grass, and the Doctor pushed open the door of the TARDIS with two very heavy hearts.

Rory exited first, always last to come and first to leave. He awkwardly shook the Doctor's hand, a wistful look upon his face.

"Uh…thanks," he murmured. "Thanks for…the time-traveling stuff and the saving me and taking care of Amy and all."

Putting on a face that altogether did not reflect his mood one bit, the Doctor grinned. "Any time, my dear Rory," he joked, patting him on the shoulder.

Rory nodded once, a bit confused by the Doctor's attitude, and made his way to Amy's far-too-big house.

Amy came out last, her eyes red from crying and her mascara running from tears. She looked at Rory as he walked into the house, slightly shaking her head.

"I don't want to leave," she said quietly.

"Then _stay_," he replied. "Stay with me. Rory can come too, of course. And I'll take you to as many planets as you like!" He knew now that he was simply trying to bargain with her, trying to make her remain with her on his wild adventures throughout and outside of the universe.

"I can't."

He brought her against his chest, encircling her body with his long arms for the second time that day. "My dear Amy, never forget me," he whispered into her ear. "Though I may be far away and you may be sad, never, ever forget me. And I'll never forget you."

"I won't," she promised, her words masked in sobs. "Never."

He drew away from her; their good-bye had lasted far too long already. "If you need me," he said solemnly, "Then just yell my name as loud as you can. I'll hear you, and I'll come for you."

"Thank you," she said. Putting on a light-hearted face, she smiled. "Now go have some crazy adventures with your blue box of a wife, Doctor!" she ordered.

"Yes ma'am," he smarted, falling back into their old playful banter.

She walked off towards the house, and though the lively step was gone from her feet, she seemed happy again, for the first time since Demon's Run.

"Run along, Pond," he said to her retreating figure. He waited until she had entered the house and the lights had been turned on before walking back to his TARDIS.

_To be continued…_


End file.
